


Making it Right

by Dirtyhands



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, fix, random family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirtyhands/pseuds/Dirtyhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Captain knows it's important to do the right thing, even when it might seem like a small thing to big people.  He'd told Natasha they were only borrowing it, and he'd meant that.  Set at the end of CATWS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This is a fix for CATWS. There was something left undone, and I don't see Steve's character letting it go unfinished. After all, he cared enough to make Natasha take her feet down from the dash.**

* * *

As he lay in the hospital bed waiting for his wounds to heal, Steve could hardly stop thinking about Bucky. He felt an urgency to go after him. Buck had been so vacant, barely even there at all under the torturous mental conditioning of the Winter Soldier. Only a few times had Steve been able to see a moment of confusion to know that Buck was still in there, somewhere.

Being laid up with perforated insides made Steve anxious to go. The longer he lay there helpless and useless, the farther Buck had to run. He was going to run. Steve knew it. It was Buck's long time habit since they were kids that if something was too much for him, he'd go off and disappear to think for a while. Used to, Steve could find him brooding in the old foundry. He didn't have a clue where Buck would run to now, but he knew he'd go to ground somewhere to think and try to get his head right.

Shield and Hydra were too much to think about right now. Stark and Hill were on it, with Natasha and Clint doing the legwork to round up all available loyal agents. God bless Pepper Potts. In the news coverage on his hospital room television, he could see her hand in preserving the legacy of the good things Shield had done, making sure the news networks distinguished between the original organization and the cancer that had eaten it from the inside.

He felt too angry and raw right now to deal with the administration of a new organization. Hill knew what she was doing, and Steve trusted her. She'd been right there in the take-down of the Insight carriers. With good people on point, it would all work itself out.

The one thing that he felt he had to do personally as soon as he could get up out of this bed was to go return the truck he'd borrowed. He and Nat had taken it from the mall parking lot. Somewhere somebody was missing their vehicle. What if they needed it to get to work? To get the kids to school?

Three days after the fall of Shield, Steve couldn't lie still any longer. Yesterday he'd stopped letting the nurses help him to the bathroom. In the middle of the night he'd removed the IV line and needle from his arm. At breakfast, he'd sent the lady back to get him two more meals. His body was healed enough. He'd served in action while he was more banged up than this. The doctors didn't want him to go yet, and Sam was making disapproving noises at him, but he was ready.

"At least let me go with you," Sam said.

Sam and the two security agents assigned to him stood unhappily outside the cab Steve had just gotten into. A nurse was frowning at him, but she'd stopped trying to hand him paperwork when Steve had walked out the main doors of the hospital. He knew hospitals. They didn't want him discharged yet, so they would drag the paperwork out with excuses to keep him longer if he let them.

"Thanks for getting me some clothes, Sam, but that's all I need. Tell Stark I'll take him up on his offer," Steve said.

"Tell him yourself," Sam said.

He tossed his cellphone into Steve's lap.

"I don't need your phone," Steve tried to hand it back.

"You take that phone, or I'm getting in the back and going with you. You're crazy if you think anybody wants to let you go off comm right now," Sam insisted.

Steve nodded. He and Sam had had a lot of time to talk over the last two days. He was thankful for Sam's presence and his calm, steady outlook on things. He'd helped him deal with the worst of the anger and betrayal, and he'd talked him out of running after Buck too quick and eager.

The cab pulled away from the front of the hospital and Steve watched Sam take the phone from one of the agents and start calling someone, probably Hill, to report that he'd run off. It wasn't a bad idea, as long as they left him alone to take care of what he needed to do.

Steve glanced at the cab driver who was looking at him between watching traffic.

"So, you're Captain America? I've got Captain America in my cab?" the older, overweight man asked.

"Looks like it. Go here," Steve said, and he used the GPS on the dash to find a branch of his bank, "and then we're goin to Jersey. How much for North Jersey?"

The cabbie told him and Steve took a calming breath. Geez, things were expensive nowadays. Hill had brought him his wallet at the hospital, so the transaction at the bank went smoothly. Steve walked out of the bank branch and back to the waiting cab. This time he got in the back and stretched out with his legs mostly on the seat and his back propped in the corner.

"You're walking funny. You get shot up or somethin? I figure with all that drama in the news, something musta happened to you," the curious cabbie said.

"Shot up, beat up, half drowned. It happens. It's what, four hours to the address I put in the GPS? I'm gonna get some sleep," Steve said.

The cabbie grunted and drove til early afternoon without bothering him.

The slowing down and turning of the cab woke Steve. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror uncertainly.

"This is a disaster zone. You sure this is where you wanted to go?" he asked.

Steve looked at the chunks and slabs of concrete lying around inside the still locked gate of camp Lehigh. The barracks were damaged from the missile strike on the underground base. Many of the windows at the camp had been shattered from the explosion and glass glittered everywhere in the afternoon sun. A thin, white film of concrete dust coated the vegetation all around and made it look pale instead of dark green. The place was deserted again, except for the late model pickup truck parked peacefully in front of the gate. The taxi pulled up beside the truck.

"This is the place. Thanks," Steve said.

"You want me to wait?" the driver offered.

"That might be a good idea," Steve agreed.

He got out and went to assess the truck. It was in good condition, with only a few impact dings in the paint of the hood and a chip in the windshield. Steve lay down on his back and scanned under the frame for any tampering or devices that might have been added. It was clean. Steve opened the driver's door and touched the wires to see if it would start. No problem. There was still a half tank of gasoline. Steve left it running and walked back around to the cab.

It was hard to keep moving subtly without appearing that he was dizzy or something, but he managed. He walked back to the cab and leaned down to look inside. His eyes scanned around as he pulled money from his wallet, then leaned down to pay. He passed the driver double the fare that was showing on the meter to cover the return trip back to DC, plus a good tip. The driver looked at him like he was a little funny in the head, but he didn't comment.

"You need a ride, Cap, you call me anytime day or night," the cabbie said.

He passed Steve a business card and shook his hand.

Steve nodded at him and put the card in the back pocket of his jeans with his wallet . The cab backed out and the driver waved. Steve returned the wave as he walked around, then got in the truck. He didn't want to linger here, just in case there were any loose Hydra agents waiting. His eyes scanned the surroundings. The old camp had too many places for a sniper to hide and it had been making his skin crawl the whole time since he'd arrived.

Steve quickly backed the truck out and drove to the nearest busy gas station. He fueled up and got himself four large packs of beef jerky, three king size candy bars with peanuts, three chocolate milks and two large waters. And a coffee. His body was clamoring at him for protein, calories, and fluids. It always did that when he was healing.

He got the vehicle's registration and insurance papers from the glove compartment. The owner's home address was in one of the lower middle class suburbs around DC. It was another four hour drive back to Washington, and Steve's eyes were constantly looking to see if he was being followed. For a while, he thought he might have had a tail, but it pulled off the interstate and he never saw it again.

When the navigation app on Sam's phone told him he was twenty minutes out from where the truck belonged, he started making phone calls.

"Hi, this is Captain Steve Rogers. I need to speak to your superior officer," he said into the phone.

Steve was glad he'd taken Sam's phone. This would have been a lot clumsier if he didn't have the ability to make the appropriate calls as he drove. He waited while the officer who'd answered got the right person on the line.

"Hello. This is Captain Rogers. I'm assuming you've had a report for a stolen truck in your jurisdiction. The owner is Thomas Givens, twenty-four fifteen Westmoreland Way. I want to report that I'm driving the vehicle to return it to the owner now," Steve said.

"Yes. Steven Grant Rogers. Army Captain, retired," he clarified.

The police chief on the other end of the line was having a hard time understanding the reason why Steve was calling in to report that he was driving a stolen vehicle to its owner. He'd found the stolen vehicle report in their computer system, and he sounded suspicious that he was being pranked.

"Chief, I don't normally go around saying this, but I'm Captain America. If you've watched the news lately, you know I've had a little trouble. Things were hot, Hydra was on me, and I had to evade until I could find the information I needed and the means to hit them back. I took the truck from the mall parking lot and drove it to Jersey. I'm en route to arrive at the home of the owner in fifteen minutes, if traffic allows. I'd appreciate it if you can have one of your officers at the address to clear out the stolen vehicle report when I arrive. Or you can arrest me for the theft. I did take the vehicle, so I won't resist," Steve said.

The police chief was quiet for a moment, then he briskly agreed to have someone meet him at the address. Next, Steve made a similar call to the insurance agent listed on the card from the glove compartment. Strangely, the nice lady on the other end of the line seemed to believe him more easily than the police chief had. She agreed to have an assesor come out and look at the truck immediately.

He was a little antsy about meeting the owner of the vehicle, if they were home. It was going on to evening, and people were coming home from work. Steve didn't know if Mister Givens would be in a forgiving mood, or if he would be angry. He had every right to be. It had probably been an inconvenience to him for his vehicle to go missing. Steve was prepared to deal with irate intelligence directors and Army brass, and even disapproving senators and judiciary committees. He always did his best to perform his duty, so when he'd earned a dressing-down, he took it with a hard face, as he'd been trained to.

But this guy, the truck owner, was a civilian. An average Joe. Steve knew if he stood there at attention when the guy wanted to yell at him, it would be awkward. Civilians didn't understand that kind of thing. He'd probably think Steve was being an ass and ignoring him. Steve huffed out an anxious breath and tried to put himself back in the mindset of little Stevie Rogers, when he'd been caught out doing something naughty. That's the attitude he was going to have to take.

As he got closer, the neighborhood looked more and more worn and tired. Steve felt worse. He'd taken a working man's truck, not a weekend plaything from a wealthy person. He carefully drove between the other cars parked at the curb and watched out for the kids on their bicycles. At the correct address, there was already a patrol car and two officers waiting. One officer was standing at the front door of the small brick house and the other was at the patrol car talking to who Steve assumed was the insurance assessor.

The curbside was available, so Steve parked the truck. There was a young woman at the door of the house with a baby on her hip, and a toddler on the grass with a plastic big wheel trike, and a little girl standing by the toddler. The mom, the kids, the officers, and the insurance lady were all looking at him, waiting. Steve forced another long, slow breath out and got himself out of the truck.

He was going to go straight to the door to apologize to the woman, but the officer at the patrol car barked at him.

"Over here, Sir."

Steve changed directions and walked the few feet to the patrol car.

"Dispatch said to expect a Captain Rogers. Your ID, please," the young officer held out his hand. Steve noticed that his hip and his weapon hand were hidden behind the frame of the car, but in the correct posture for quick use.

Steve kept his left hand visible and slowly pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He handed it to the officer and waited while he looked at his ID.

"Is there a reason you have such a large amount of cash on you?" the officer asked as the thumbed aside the bill fold.

"I went to my bank and took it out so I could cover any expenses the vehicle owner may have incurred because of my use of their vehicle. I'd like to cover their car rental, if they had one, and pay for the damage to the truck. Hello, Ma'am," Steve said to the officer, and then to the insurance lady.

"You really are Captain America," the woman said with a big smile.

"Yes, Ma'am," Steve replied.

Just then, a small rental car parked across the street in a hurry, and a man in smudged work clothes and boots strode across the street with fire in his eyes.

"Are you the guy that stole my truck?" he asked as he advanced on Steve.

The man was thin, and shorter than Steve, but that didn't slow down his aggression any.

"Yessir," Steve answered.

He could already tell what was about to happen. Steve held a hand out behind him in a _halt_ gesture to the officer and let the smaller man sock him a good one across the jaw.

"Tommy! No!" the woman from the house started running across the small lawn with the baby on her hip, and the insurance lady yelped.

Thomas Givens shook the sting from his knuckles and stood up in Steve's face. Steve worked his jaw around a little to make the man feel like he'd accomplished something.

"I was supposed to pick up my wife and kids! They had to wait for three frikkin hours at the laundromat in the dark because of you!" Tomas Givens yelled.

"I'm very sorry, Sir. Mrs. Givens, I hope you and the children are alright," Steve said to the lady.

"Alright, people. We should move this out of the street. Captain, do you want to press charges for assault?" the officer asked.

"What? No! I deserved that," Steve said.

"Daddy, you just hit Captain America," the little girl said from her father's side.

The child looked disapprovingly at her father, and Mister Givens looked to Steve in shock.

"Dude," he said, bewildered.

Steve looked to the little girl who seemed to have a pretty clear grasp of what was going on. He squatted down to her level so she wouldn't have to look up so much.

"What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have taken your daddy's truck, so your daddy is right to be angry. I won't hit him back, I promise, because I know I was wrong," Steve said.

"But why'd you do the wrong thing?" the girl asked.

She was one of those awkward looking kids with glasses and freckles. That didn't matter when Steve looked at her face, because he could tell she was confused. Him doing the wrong thing was a big deal to her, and he felt the need to explain.

"I did the wrong thing because the bad guys were coming to get me, and I had to get away. I looked all around for something different to do, but the bad guys were coming fast. Your truck looked strong and safe, so I used it to get away," Steve explained.

The girl nodded as if that made perfect sense.

"We saw you on TV, and everybody was looking for you. They said you were bad and they looked mean. I didn't like them. Me and mommy and Georgie and Lisa prayed for you so you could get away from the mean people," she said.

Steve bit his lip and bent his head down for a moment. He bore down against the swell of emotion that hit him. He hadn't realized that folks would be praying for him. It meant more than he'd thought it would. He got himself under control and looked at the little girl.

"Thanks, sweetheart. That means a lot to me. I got away, and I got back at the bad guys, so I appreciate your help," Steve said.

"You 'sploded 'em," the girl said with a smile.

"I guess we did. We kinda had to. They were really bad guys," Steve said contritely.

Another thing he hadn't considered was that little kids at home might be watching the violence his job required, now that there were cameras everywhere. God, he hoped it hadn't been too gruesome. Didn't the news media have any care for who might be watching?

Steve stood up and held his hand out to Mister Givens. The young father hesitated, clearly feeling uneasy about the situation now that he understood. His wife shoved at his elbow until he took Steve's hand.

"I'm really sorry, Mister Givens," Steve said.

The man nodded, and his wife was staring at him unkindly.

"What? I didn't know," Thomas said.

"Mister Givens, do we have your permission to drop the theft charges against the Captain?" the officer asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course," Thomas said.

He looked at his truck, and the officer put a clipboard and some papers in his hands. Thomas signed the papers, then went to look at his truck for damage. The insurance assesor joined him. The two officers walked closer to Steve.

"Captain, if it's not too much trouble, do you think I could get your autograph? The guys are never gonna believe this," the younger officer said.

"Sure," Steve said.

He scrawled his name on the scrap of paper provided to him, and then did it again for the other officer when he offered his light blue uniform shirt sleeve. It wasn't unusual for people to offer him shirts and caps and sometimes more embarrassing things for him to autograph. Steve waved at the officers as they left, and ambled over to point out the dings and chips he knew his use had added to the truck.

"How did this damage happen, Captain?" the insurance lady asked.

"I was in a concrete bunker and they sent a missile after me and my partner. The truck was over a hundred yards away, but the impact was highly kinetic. I'm sure the dings and chips are from concrete projectiles," Steve said.

Thomas fingered the small damage spots and looked at Steve with a bit of awe.

"My truck was at an Avengers battle?" he asked.

"It was just me and the Widow, and it wasn't really a battle. I didn't have much ability to fight back right then," Steve clarified.

Thomas looked at him like he wanted to hear more.

"I'm sorry. It's classified," Steve told him.

Thomas nodded.

"It will be approximately nine hundred and seventy five dollars to replace your chipped windshield and repair the damage to the hood of your truck, Mister Givens," the insurance assesor said.

"I don't want it fixed. It's drivable, right?" Thomas asked.

"I drove it here. Are you sure? I'm happy to pay for the damage," Steve offered.

"Naw, man, I'm keepin it like this," Thomas said.

He rubbed his hand over the dings on the front edge of the hood. Steve tried hard not to laugh, and he looked at the insurance lady.

"How much for the car rental?"

"We've got that covered. Their out of pocket was fifty dollars and eighty-five cents," she told him.

Steve paid Thomas the money to cover their part of the car rental, but Thomas didn't want to take it.

"Come on. Here. If you don't take it, I'll give it to your daughter. She likes me," Steve said with a smile.

Thomas accepted the money.

"I'm sorry I hit you, man. I didn't know. I thought you were some punk out for a joy ride, or into drugs or something."

"No hard feelings. I understand," Steve said.

"Thomas, you bring him in for supper!" the wife shouted from the front door of the house.

"I really should get going," Steve said to politely give the man a reason to decline his wife's invitation.

"No, she means it. You better come eat," Thomas said.

The insurance lady shook Steve's hand and smiled, and then she left.

Steve followed Thomas to the house.

"Are you alright? You're walking a little funny," he asked.

"Gut shot. I'm fine," Steve said, and waved his hand as if it was nothing.

"Like shot in the stomach, with a bullet? Three days ago?" Thomas asked incredulously.

"Shhh, I don't talk about that kind of stuff in front of women and children. I heal quick. It's not a problem," Steve said quietly as they went inside the modest home.

"If you say so, man," Thomas said in awe.

Thomas went to say hello to his wife in the kitchen. Steve paused inside the front door in the small living room, and the little girl who'd spoken so clearly and intelligently to him immediately grabbed his fingers and tugged at him.

"You come play," she ordered him.

"Yes, Ma'am," Steve said.

"I'm not Mam. I'm Margot," the little girl said.

"It's nice to meet you," Steve replied as his mother would have expected him to.

He wanted to laugh, and it made his stomach hurt, but it made the rest of him feel good. There hadn't been much to be genuinely happy about lately, and the change of mood was pleasantly unexpected.

The child led him to sit in the middle of the floor with her little brother who crawled around among a pile of legos. The baby bounced in a round, plastic seat thingy with toys attached all around its edge.

"Nnnnnnn!" the nearly year-old infant yelled at him around her pacifier. She bounced vigorously on chubby legs and the toys on her seat thing jiggled wildly.

"Hi," Steve smiled at the tot.

The little boy crawled onto his lap and banged him on the shoulder with a big yellow lego.

"Heya, sport. What have ya got?" Steve asked.

His gut hurt when he lifted the kid to set him back on the carpet, but that was okay. The little boy picked up a blue lego piece and banged it against the yellow one.

"He wants you to do what he does," the girl explained.

"Okay," Steve said.

He found pieces that matched the ones the boy grabbed, and he copied the kid as he made a rudimentary train out of legos and plastic wheel parts.

"Thomas! You brought the Captain into this house and you didn't tell me! Georgie is making him play with legos! Captain, you don't have to do that. I'm so sorry!" the lady of the house called from the kitchen doorway.

"It's alright. This is a lot nicer than what I've been doing for the last week or so," Steve told her.

"Well, you shouldn't have to sit on the floor with the kids. I'm sorry. Tommy isn't always very good with manners. Will you come to the dining room? It's almost supper time. Or, the hall bathroom is right there, if you want to wash up," she said.

Steve got to his feet with a hidden grimace and went into the kitchen where the lady was working to spoon food into serving dishes. It looked good, and smelled even better. It was some kind of chicken in a sauce, with vegetable-rice and broccoli.

"Sure. Thanks. Oh, I'm Steve," he said, and offered her his hand.

"Captain?" she asked.

Steve shook his head kindly.

"Just Steve. I mean, yes, I'm the Captain, but I prefer to just be me when I'm off duty, Ma'am," he explained.

"I'm Emily. I'm really sorry that Tommy hit you like that. He's kind of protective," Emily smiled.

Steve could see that she was not so secretly proud of her husband's bravery.

"That's nice to hear, Miz Emily. I used to pick fights with guys bigger than me all the time. It takes courage. Nothing wrong with a man standing up for his family," Steve said.

"But it wouldn't hurt for him to stop and ask a question or two, first," Emily told him.

"Well, to be fair, he did ask one question," Steve said.

Emily laughed, and Steve went to the hall bathroom to freshen up.

"Margot! Come put the glasses and pour the drinks," the mother called out.

Steve closed himself in the bathroom and started to wash his hands. With the water running, he paused and let the strangeness of the situation settle a bit. Of all the things he'd expected, the only thing that wasn't a surprise was getting punched by Mister Givens. The Margot kid was amazing for a little one, and the other two were pretty spunky too. Their mother was kind and hospitable, and Thomas was reasonable enough, once he understood what was going on.

He liked the feeling of domesticity in this small house. It wasn't fancy. The bathroom he stood in was tiny, with colorful stickers in the bottom of the iron stained tub, and rubber bath toys everywhere. There was a little plastic potty chair next to the regular sized toilet, and a red Iron man toothbrush lived in the cup at the sink, along with a blue Captain America one. The bristles were frayed and splayed out on the Cap toothbrush, like somebody didn't want to get rid of it, even though it was well used. Steve smiled. He was somebody's favorite around here.

A man's footsteps went by in the hall, and Thomas spoke kindly to his children in the living room. Steve finished washing his hands and dried them. He shouldn't linger, but this was nice.

Emily called her family to eat, and Steve hurried from the bathroom. In the cozy dining room, there was a place for him at the round table. Emily and Thomas sat next to each other, with baby Lisa in a high chair by her mother. Georgie, the boy, was clipped into a booster seat by his father, and Margot wiggled excitedly in her chair next to Steve.

"I'm a big girl," she said.

"I guess you are," Steve agreed as if he was impressed.

"Margot, hush. Captain, I hope we don't offend, but we say grace around here," Emily said.

"I do too," Steve murmured, and bowed his head.

"Thank you, God for the meal we are about to receive. And thank you for the Captain's safety. Amen," Thomas prayed.

"Amen," Steve agreed.

He felt a little embarrassed to be singled out in their prayer, but Margot was kicking him with the hard edge of her shoe under the table. It distracted him enough that he didn't blush. Emily reached for Steve's plate and served him a heaping pile. Steve nodded his thanks and waited politely until everyone was served.

Little Lisa yelled again and banged her hands on her high chair tray. She spit out her pacifier and smiled a half-toothed grin at Steve, but then her attention was all for the food, which she ate with her fingers.

Steve stared in fascination at the mess the baby made until Thomas spoke up.

"So, you blew up the office. Are you out of a job? 'Cause I could talk to my boss and maybe find something for ya."

"It's kind of you to offer. Thank you, but I think I'll be alright. Stark is lining up some work for me that should keep me busy. I'll be in New York after this," Steve said.

"So you _didn't_ blow up the Avengers?" Margot asked.

"No, the Avengers are my friends. I just blew up the place with all the paperwork and where the boring boss people worked," Steve said.

Margot wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head.

"That's like homework. And teachers," Margot said.

She stabbed a piece of chicken on her plate vigorously.

"Right. So, me and Iron Man and the Widow, and the Hulk and Thor and Hawkeye still have jobs," Steve told her.

Margot nodded while she chewed.

Emily smiled and fed the baby a spoon of rice.

"You were hiding from Hydra in the mall?" Thomas asked.

Steve was really enjoying the meal. The food was great, and Margot was good company, but he wasn't overly fond of the questions about recent events. He'd stolen Thomas' truck, so he felt compelled to answer as best as he could.

"Not exactly hiding. There was something in the mall we needed. Hydra found out me and the Widow were there. We got done with what we needed, and then it was time to run. I wish I hadn't had to take your truck, but we would have been in a bad spot without it," Steve said.

Thomas shrugged and ate.

"What does 'widow' mean?" Margot asked.

Steve looked up from his plate and waited for either of the parents to answer her. Thomas tended to his food, though there was a slight smile bending his lips. Emily looked pointedly to Steve.

"Um," Steve swallowed, took a long drink from his glass, and wiped his mouth to give himself time to think, "It usually means a woman who has lost her husband. But in my friend Natasha's case, it just means that she's really… dangerous. Even to men who are bigger than her."

"She still has her husband, then?" Margot asked.

"No. I don't think she's ever been married," Steve said.

He looked to the parents somewhat pleadingly, but Emily only smiled and cut up more chicken for Georgie. Margot saw that Steve's glass of tea was almost empty, so she grabbed her glass, which was almost full, and poured most of it into Steve's.

"Margot! That's not nice," Emily said, embarrassed.

"Why not? He didn't have anymore," Margot said.

"You can't pour your drink into other people's glasses. Guests don't like to share our germs," her mother said.

Margot looked down at her plate and Steve heard her take a deep breath and hold it. The kid's face turned bright red where he could see it from the side. Steve had to think quick. He had a feeling that Margot was his big fan in the house, and now she was painfully ashamed for the innocent blunder.

"What your mom says is true. You shouldn't do that to most people. But I'm Captain America. Germs don't do anything to me, so I don't mind," Steve said.

He picked up his glass and drank from it. Margot let go of the breath she was holding and looked at him. The kid had been really embarrassed. He could see through her glasses that she had tears on her eyelids. Steve set his glass down, smiled at her, and finished eating his food.

"You must have really been in a hurry, Steve. When you got in the truck, didn't you see that there was a booster seat in the back?" Emily asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, I was really in a hurry. I only noticed the booster seat on the way here this evening," Steve admitted.

Georgie was staring at him. The boy hadn't said a word all evening. Maybe he didn't talk yet. Or maybe he didn't know who their guest was.

"You said you'd go work with Stark. That's Iron Man, right? Are you going to live in his big tower?" Margot asked.

"I think so. It would make going to work easier if we were all in one place," Steve said.

The meal was almost done, except for wiping down the baby. She had broccoli on top of her head. Steve chuckled and looked to Thomas, who just smiled.

"Thanks for having me in for supper. It was great," Steve said.

He got up from his place and so did the family, except for Georgie, who was strapped in. The boy wiggled and bounced and strained against his booster seat until Thomas freed him.

"You're welcome to stop by anytime," Emily told him.

"Yeah, no bad for the truck, man," Thomas said, and shook his hand again.

Steve walked for the front door, and he felt Margot's fingers grab his hand. She dragged at him to stay and Steve made a game of lifting her up and bopping her feet along the carpet as he walked. The pain was worth it for her giggles.

"Wait! You can't go yet," Margot said.

She let go of his hand and ran off down the hallway.

Steve looked to Emily and Thomas. They each had a child on their hip. They didn't appear to have any more clue about what Margot wanted than he did.

Margot ran back with a stuffed cloth doll in her hand. She tugged at Steve for him to squat down. Once he was down at her level again, Margot looked at him bashfully.

"What?" Steve asked her.

"I can't kiss you goodbye. You're a boy, and that would be weird," Margot said.

"Oh, okay," Steve agreed.

Margot smacked him in the face with her doll.

"Margot!" her mother fussed.

"There," Margot said, and she looked satisfied.

"Wow. You're some kisser, lady," Steve rubbed his nose where she'd bonked him, and he stood up smiling.

"Sorry about that. She's a handful," Thomas muttered.

"Nah. She's great. Maybe she'll be an Avenger someday," Steve said.

"Hey, do you have a ride?" Emily asked.

Steve looked at his watch and stepped out into their front yard. It had gotten dark and quiet in the neighborhood while they ate supper. Steve pointed up at the sky. The Givens family went out to stand in the lawn with him.

In the distance but coming quick, there was a low flying aircraft. It sounded different from any of the regular planes that the family was used to hearing.

"My ride is meeting me in the ballpark down the street. If you're ever in New York, you can stop by and see if I'm in," Steve offered.

"It was nice to meet you," Emily called as Steve started to walk to the ballpark where the quinjet would pick him up.

"Bye!" Margot yelled.

"See ya!" Steve answered her cheerfully.

* * *

A week later, Emily was checking the mailbox outside the door. There was a small yellow package along with the bills and the junk mail. That was odd. She hadn't ordered anything recently. She felt of the oblong shape inside the bubble lined envelope. The baby swatted at the mail in her hand and almost knocked it to the ground.

"Lisa. No," she told her littlest daughter.

Once back inside, she shut the door and set the baby down. All the other mail went to the end table and Emily turned the package over. The return address was labelled S. Rogers in neat, fluid cursive ink. Sent from New York, NY.

"Margot!" Emily yelled down the hall to the childrens' room.

The girl came running.

"You have a package," her mother said, and handed it to her.

"Is it from Gran?" Margot asked.

She tugged her fingers against the adhesive of the sealing flap.

"I don't think so. Look where it's from," Emily turned the package in her hands and pointed to the return address.

"New York!"

Margot ripped at the package more excitedly. After a bit of struggle, a photograph and a plastic tube fell out of the envelope.

"A new toothbrush. It's a Captain America one! And look! A picture!" Margot gathered the dropped items off the carpet and hurried them over to her mother.

The picture was of the Captain in his uniform, with his shield on his back sticking up a bit from his shoulders, but his cowl was off. His hair was messy, as if he'd just taken it off. Next to him was a beautiful red haired lady in a black outfit. Even smiling, she looked dangerous.

"That's gotta be the Widow!" Margot said.

"Mmhmm" Emily hummed.

The photo was a small print made from a phone selfie. It was framed in on just the Avengers' faces and shoulders. Both the Captain and the Widow had overly large, toothy smiles. Emily thought they looked goofy, like regular people instead of super-heroes. That smile was odd, but she liked the genuine crinkles at the corners of the Captain's eyes. Emily kept staring at the pic. Margot was distracted with opening her new toothbrush. Hmm. The smile was really odd. Very toothy.

On a hunch, Emily turned the photo over. On the back side, in the same strong handwriting as the return address was written: _Great smile, kid, but you gotta keep a fresh toothbrush. Keep me in your prayers. I could use the help. Your pal, Steve._

Tommy was going to be very happy with this. His friends at work didn't believe him that Captain America and the Black Widow had borrowed his truck. She was going to have to threaten his life to bring the photo back to Margot unharmed, without any motor oil stains on it.

Emily wondered where Margot had gone to until she heard the water run in the bathroom.

Her daughter was standing in front of the sink with her new toothbrush, about to put the toothpaste on, but she'd frozen still in indecision.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked.

"Maybe I shouldn't get it dirty with toothpaste. It's a _real_ Captain America toothbrush! If I use it, I might wear it out like my old one. And then what would I do?" Margot worried.

"Look here. He wrote on the back of the picture," Emily showed her.

"I think he means for you to use it and keep your teeth bright, just like him and the Widow, see?" she reasoned.

"Oh. I guess so," Margot said, and that was the end of that.

She happily brushed her teeth, then spit.

"Can I please throw away your old toothbrush now?" Emily asked.

Margot nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I wasn't going to add to this story, but the characters keep popping into my imagination. If I add more in the future, I'll always make sure each chapter can serve as an ending. I don't really have a goal in mind for this story, it just helps me to study who Steve might be. This runs concurrently with Scruffy Girl, before he meets Estrella or gets Bucky back, and if I write more, it will probably overlap with SG in ways that don't matter to SG.**

* * *

Steve sat on the sunbaked stone in the park where he usually went when he got a letter. He'd had this one for two days but hadn't had any time to get away from the tower to read it. It's not that he was doing anything wrong. That wasn't the reason he had to do this in semi-secret. Or, maybe it was wrong of him to involve an innocent family in his life, even in this small way.

The envelope had the correct address on the front to reach Avenger's tower, but above the address, it simply said _Pal Steve_ in careful yet imperfect manuscript writing. Number two pencil, he was sure. There was a light greenish-blue smear of toothpaste on the back side of the plain white envelope. Just like the last one and the one before. Jarvis knew that toothpaste letters should go straight up to his suite unopened, no matter if they were addressed in grade-school handwriting, or in Emily's pretty cursive writing, or in Tommy's slashing block letters.

Margot was getting better at writing his address well enough to make it through the postal system. Her first letters had been returned to the Givens household undeliverable, and Emily'd had to show her how to neatly and legibly address a letter. Then he'd received a bundled set of five re-sent letters on the same day. That had been a much-needed flash of happiness at the end of a long, depressing day. He loved hearing about everyday things. It reminded him that life went on out there, even if his was mostly about training, planning, briefings, and combat. Somebody somewhere was wiping little snotty noses, teaching to tie shoes, and going to the grocery store.

Margot had a goldfish, but it died and then she got a beta fish, whatever that was. Did she mean a second fish that she considered subordinate to the first fish? Steve had taken an internet journey and discovered the astonishing array of pet fish available. The colors were unbelievable. He'd written back to ask her which color her new fish was, and he'd gotten a very descriptive letter in return.

Georgie was starting to say things now, but only Margot could understand him. Lisa cried a lot because of her teeth coming in, and Tommy was grumpy because the crying made it hard for him to get enough sleep before he had to go to work in the mornings. Emily didn't say much to Steve, other than to remind him that the family was praying for him, whether he needed it or not.

Steve carefully opened the latest letter. He had a meeting to get to in forty-five minutes, but he took this small slice of time in the park away from surveillance cameras and all-seeing artificial intelligence to enjoy his old-fashioned correspondence. It reminded him somewhat of the letters his mother used to cherish from great-aunt Millie back in County Cork.

Emily wrote a brief paragraph at the top of the lined page of ripped-out notebook paper. She and Tommy invited him to visit for a pre-July 4th celebration at their house, if he was free. Everyone knew that Steve's birthday was on the actual holiday, so he thought it was kind of them to offer him a chance at some quiet and relaxation ahead of the big holiday. He knew it would be just the six of them, him and the little family, if he went.

Before he'd sent the photo of him and Nat and the toothbrush to Margot, he'd written a letter to Tommy at his place of work, warning the man that any continuing association with himself could endanger his family if anyone found out. Tommy had thought about it for a while and they'd decided that using old fashioned paper letters would be best. No letters typed on a computer of any sort. No return addresses on the envelopes. No emails. No texts of any meaningful words, and even then, only between Tommy's phone and Steve's. Steve had Tommy's cell number, but he had yet to send any texts.

Natasha knew about the Givens family, but Steve hadn't told her where they lived. Jarvis already had a protocol request to corrupt any tracing information which might be found on Steve's phone if Tommy ever had reason to text him. Toothpaste was a surprisingly durable and recognizable substance, if someone knew to look for it. Jarvis' sensors picked up on it without fail in the mail sorting room.

Once he was as satisfied as he could be that the Givens family would suffer no harm from knowing him, Steve allowed himself the luxury of one normal, human thing; interaction with real people who didn't ask for his autograph. The Givens house wasn't fancy. There wasn't a lot of room. Their dining table was really too small to sit six people, even when half of them were little. Steve didn't care. It had a mom and a dad and people who still regularly pooped their pants and cried. It was wonderfully different from his daily life.

In addition to Emily's invitation, Tommy wrote to ask what kind of beer Steve liked. Margot's handwriting was the rest of the writing on the page. She wanted to know if Steve had ever had any pets, and if he had a pet now. She told him that learning multiplication was hard and that she hated it, even with singing. There were several sentences about how hard it was to not say anything about her pal Steve to her friends at school, even though she was so proud of him and wanted to show them her toothbrush. There were some rubber stamps on the back of the letter, mostly in green but some in purple. All of frogs. Some of them were incomplete like the stamper hadn't been applied to the page evenly, and some were pounded on with such force that the frog shape was barely discernible among a blot of ink. Part of the page was torn, but clear tape had been applied to fix the tear. Another part of the page was rippled in a splotchy mess, like water damage. Possibly slobber from baby Lisa?

The likelihood of a recoverable fingerprint in the tape adhesive and a traceable genetic marker in the baby's dried slobber tried to worry at him, but Steve pushed those thoughts away. He could have this, he reminded himself. The Givens didn't really have anything of him that Hydra or other enemies could use even if this letter somehow got away from his control. He didn't share sensitive secrets with his new friends, only a little of his time and some of his thoughts.

Steve pulled a notebook from his drawing portfolio and turned to a fresh page. He balanced the notebook on his thigh and clicked his cheap ink pen to expose the tip. Before he could second-guess himself, he wrote whatever was on his mind. The blue ink of his pen scrawled across the lines of the page, and he enjoyed the freedom of not having to worry about technical writing like he did in mission reports. The fact that he wasn't using a keyboard was oddly comforting to him. The distant sounds of the city and people in the park playing music faded from his mind as he wrote.

_I'd love to visit on the 25_ _th_ _. I'll try my best to make it, but please understand that I might have to work. My schedule is free for it right now, but things can happen at the last minute. If I'm a no-show, then pizza's on me if you ever come to my town. That is, if I'm not working then too. I'm really sorry about that. I don't make for the best kind of friend, I'm afraid. Tommy, any beer will do. I'll try whatever kind you like best._

_Margot, I didn't like learning to multiply either, but once I learned it, I never had to learn it again. It comes in handy. I couldn't have a pet when I was a kid, and I don't think I should have one now. Pets need care and attention, and I'm afraid that I get too busy to give it my best. I'd like to see your fish, though. I've never seen a fish that was indigo and mint-green colored with red fins with white stripes. I might have to take a picture of him. Thanks for keeping me top-secret at school. If I ever get to come over again, I'd rather spend my time with just you guys._

_Georgie, I saw a frog once that was as big as my head. No joke. It ate rats for supper and it growled instead of croaking. Somebody told me that they tasted good if you cooked them (the big frog, not the rats, but I don't want to eat a frog unless there's nothing better to eat.)_

_I don't know what Lisa likes to hear about, so maybe tell her 'hello' for me. I hope her gums feel better soon. I had a friend a long time ago, and he had a baby sister. Her gums hurt too, and they rubbed whiskey on them to help her. Maybe that's not a good idea anymore?_

_Emily and Tommy, I'll try to let you know if I'll be there, but sometimes I don't get much warning. Either way, it's something for me to look forward to, so thank you for inviting me. Until then, please keep me in your prayers and I'll keep you in mine._

_Your pal Steve_

He ripped out the page and left the untidy jagged edge as it was. Even that was a form of defiance against how perfect he was expected to be. Many of his expectations of perfection were self-imposed and he knew it, but still. How had he come to the point in his life where hand-writing an impromptu letter on poorly presented paper felt rebellious? Steve pondered that while he folded his letter and sealed it into a plain envelope. He wrote the Givens' address on the front and added a postage stamp. On his way back into the tower for his first afternoon meeting, Steve slipped the letter into the tower's outgoing mail bin for posting. He could move fast. Nobody saw his hand put the letter in with all the rest. Only Jarvis saw, but J was already helping.

* * *

Just like last time, Steve was privately embarrassed that he was nervous approaching the Given's house. He could face mission insertion direct through enemy fire, and he could stand in front of a Nicholas Fury evil-eye. He could almost give Thor a run for his money in the training room, and he could breathe through the anxiety of knowing that Buck was out there somewhere alone. But knocking on the door of a civilian household? He didn't really know what to do with himself. For this, he had to fall back on old manners that he hadn't used since before the ice and before the war. He had to remember the things his mother had taught him.

Steve parked the unremarkable gray sedan at the curb, just where he'd parked Tommy's truck last time. It didn't have any rental car stickers on it because it was a Stark Industries unit. A SI employee had met him at the small municipal airport where Clint had dropped him off with the quinjet. He'd jumped out the back of the jet right next to the car and he'd been handed the car keys. Nobody in town knew he was here.

He carried a briefcase in one hand and a small bunch of mixed flowers in his other hand. Sunglasses, a cheap suit, and the briefcase were meant to make him look like a door-to-door salesman. He didn't know if it would have worked because there were few people outside to notice him. There was a short brick walkway to the porch, and by the time Steve knocked on the Givens' front door, he'd just about won the battle against the butterflies in his belly. Would the suit be confusing to the kids? Were the flowers too much? Should he have brought some kind of food instead?

There was yelling inside the house, Margot's voice asking could she please, please, please open the door? Through the glass and the curtain at the door, Steve saw Tommy's shape approach. Tactical thoughts popped into his head, but Steve tamped them down. It was only a civilian. Unarmed. Coming to welcome him. No threat.

"Hey, glad you could make it. What's with the suit?" Tommy asked as soon as he opened the door.

Before Steve could answer, Margot tackled him in a hug. The kid jumped a little and pressed her face hard against his belly. She made the loudest, most impressive raspberries on him, even through the cotton of his clothes.

"Margot!" Tommy fussed at his daughter.

Steve laughed and hauled the girl along into the living room like a clinging limpet. Her feet were off the floor, then she let him go to grin up at him.

"Sorry for that," Tommy said, embarrassed.

"She's fine. Really, it's great. Don't worry. Oh, I uh- it's a disguise? Maybe I think too much. I brought a change of clothes," Steve tried to explain himself.

Emily came to greet him with Lisa on her hip. Georgie looked on shyly from around the hallway doorframe. Steve accepted the warm greetings of the family. He handed Emily the flowers, which seemed to fluster the young woman, and Lisa grabbed his tie with a damp, chubby hand just as her mother was trying to step away. The baby gave his tie a good tug and tried to lift it to her mouth. Tommy came to the rescue and freed him.

"You're way overdressed, man. Go get changed," Tommy told him.

Steve could see that it was true. He was the only one in the house wearing shoes. Lisa was in a brightly colored diaper of some sort. It didn't look like a regular one. Emily and Tommy were in plain shorts and t-shirts, already barefoot as if they were about to step out onto a beach. Margot wore a white little kid's swimsuit printed all over with colorful lemons, limes, oranges, and pineapples. Georgie was still a mystery because he was hiding behind the doorway.

"Yeah, looks like I need to," Steve agreed.

He went to the hall bathroom and took a few minutes to get out of his suit and into his shorts and shirt. Nat had packed sandals for him, but he refused to wear them, so that meant he would be barefoot, too. It felt terribly informal and insulting, as if he was presuming too much familiarity to come out of the bathroom with most of his legs and his bare feet showing. His skin was very pale. Even freckled little Margot was more tanned than him.

When he exited the small bathroom, he nearly knocked Margot down. The kid smiled up at him and grabbed his folded clothes and his shoes from him. She ran off somewhere and Steve was left standing in the hallway with nothing to do.

"Margot, are you pestering Steve? Come help me with the punch!" Emily called from the kitchen.

"No, she's being helpful," Steve said.

He found Emily and Lisa in the kitchen. They were putting stuff into a punch bowl. Tommy dug in a drawer and got out a hammer and some tent stakes. Georgie moved to hide behind his father when Steve walked in.

"Georgie, buddy, get out from under my feet before I trip over you. He's going through a shy phase. Are you feeling better this time? You're not recovering from any injuries or anything?" Tommy asked.

"I'm good today. Not so much as a bruise. Thanks for asking. Can I help with anything?" Steve wondered. It looked like a project was about to be underway.

"Yeah, come on. We gotta spread the plastic," Tommy told him.

"You have hero legs!" Margot announced as she came in the kitchen to help her mother.

"Margot!" Lisa said, and her cheeks colored red.

"It's okay, guys. Margot, you're swell. I live with spies. You never can tell what they're really thinking. It's nice to hear what's on somebody's mind without having to guess all the time. I suppose I'd have to have hero legs, huh? I kind of need them," Steve said with a smile.

"Well come on, legs. Plastic ain't going to spread itself," Tommy said.

"Right," Steve agreed.

He had no idea what they needed to spread plastic for, but he figured that would soon be explained. Steve followed Tommy through the wash room and out the back door of the house. The Givens had a large back yard surrounded by a wooden privacy fence. There was a brick patio outside the back door. The grill was obviously heated up and ready to use from the smell and the heat shimmers coming off of it. Steve's mouth involuntarily started watering at the smell of the grill, even though there was no meat on it yet. Georgie stuck close to his father's legs and kept looking back at Steve as they walked out across the sunny lawn.

In the middle of the grassy area there was a folded bundle of black plastic. Tommy handed the tent stakes to Georgie to give the boy something to do. He tried to stay underfoot, but Tommy moved quickly, like a man who was used to getting things done.

"What's the plan?" Steve asked.

"You never did a slip-n-slide?" Tommy asked him.

"No. I'm not sure what that is. If plastic is part of it, then I assume there's water involved, or it won't be very slippery," Steve guessed.

"Yeah. Back up, son. Go stand over there until I need the stakes. Grab the corner Steve, and we'll get this started," Tommy instructed.

Steve was impressed. Once unfolded, the sheet of black plastic was pretty big. Tommy showed him how to stake the corner down to the lawn by rolling the plastic up some and pounding a stake well down into the ground.

"You gotta get the head of the stake down good, at least flush with the dirt, because if somebody slides over it while it's sticking up-"

"Ouch," Steve made a face and agreed.

He held the opposite corner of the stretched plastic down until Tommy tossed him the hammer. It was about thirty feet corner to corner, but Tommy seemed confident that Steve could catch the tool without any trouble. Steve liked how his skills were accepted without comment. He staked the corner carefully, as Tommy had showed him. Georgie was even brave enough to come close and hand him a stake when his father told him to do so. They got the other two corners done. Steve made a careful underhanded toss of the hammer back to Tommy and the man caught it without any problem.

"You play baseball?" Steve asked him.

"Used to. Got no time for that now. Work gets in the way. I'm lucky if I get a weekend off once a month," Tommy said.

"I hear ya. Having time off is rare for me. I haven't done anything like this before," Steve admitted, then felt bashful for maybe sharing too much information.

People didn't usually talk about this kind of thing with him. They always wanted to know about fighting or the other extraordinary aspects of his life.

"What do you mean, anything like this? Like, a backyard barbecue?" Tommy asked, and he was so hum-drum about it that Steve felt relieved.

"Right. Tony has a fancy grill on the rooftop, but I've never seen it used. It's all hard surface up there. No grass. No kids. No punchbowls or going barefoot," Steve explained.

He got up from installing the last stake in the ground. He and Tommy stared at the black plastic baking in the midsummer sun.

"Your life sucks," Tommy said blandly.

"Maybe. I dunno. It has its moments," Steve agreed.

"Hose is right over there. Sprinkler is in the hose box. Would you get the water going so the kids can play while we grill?" Tommy asked him.

"Sure," Steve said.

Tommy took the hammer back into the house. Georgie stayed and looked up at Steve expectantly. The kid had a pudgy little belly over his blue swim trunks and his brown hair was cut in a classic bowl cut. He bounced twice on his feet and pointed to the water hose that was coiled on the hanger at the back side of the house.

"I'm taking too long, huh? I've never done this before. Show me how it's done?" Steve asked the kid.

Georgie took his finger and pulled. Steve trotted behind the little boy as he ran to the hose. His legs were short and his little feet were a busy blur as he moved. Steve felt like a galumphing behemoth. Georgie tried to hug the heavy coil of hose off the hanger, but Steve took it from him.

"Get the sprinkler for me?" Steve asked.

He lifted the entire coil of hose, and Georgie picked the correct sprinkler out of the plastic box of lawn tools that was stowed nearby. In no time, they had the hose stretched toward the plastic. Georgie handed the sprinkler to Steve and pointed to the bare end of the hose.

"I think I got it. Thanks, pal," Steve said.

He knelt to screw the bow-shaped oscillating sprinkler onto the end of the water hose. There was a hissing sound when he had it about halfway threaded on. Steve smiled and kept doing his job. He could see that Margot had come outside. She was at the faucet, turning the handle. She thought he couldn't see her being sneaky, and he let her play her joke on him.

"Wha!" Steve yelled and jumped back as the first spray of water shot out of the sprinkler and doused his face and his shirt.

Margot laughed and danced by the faucet. Georgie stood there for only a moment, then he ran and threw himself belly-down at the first bit of water to strike the plastic. Steve wiped his face and smiled. He bent to pick up the sprinkler. He was already wet, so it didn't matter that he was getting sprayed as he adjusted it to best apply water to the plastic.

There was a high-pitched yell behind him, then Margot came running to throw herself down onto the wet plastic. She slid an impressive distance until a dry spot made her squeak to a halt.

* * *

"He's smiling," Emily said quietly.

She and Tommy looked on from the kitchen window into the back yard.

"That's good. I don't think he smiles much. Looks like he's always thinking. Hyper-aware or some shit. I can't believe I hit him. He was injured and everything. He probably should have been in the hospital, after what we saw on the news," Tommy grumbled.

"You didn't know. I'm sure you didn't hurt him at all. And watch your language. I don't think Lisa's going to have Georgie's speech issues," his wife warned him.

Lisa gurgled at her father and reached for him. Tommy kissed the baby, but avoided her grasping hands. The steaks and the sausages were ready for the grill, so he grabbed the plate and tongs in one hand, and the baby shampoo in the other one. Emily followed him to set Lisa down in the back yard, then she went back to the kitchen to bring out the drinks.

"Margot! Come get this," Tommy called to his daughter across the lawn.

The dripping wet kid ran to take the bottle of baby shampoo from his hand. Steve left the kids at the improvised slip-n-slide to join Tommy at the grill. Little Lisa wobbled and stomped her way with unsteady determination toward the fun her siblings were having.

"Leave your glasses on the table," Tommy told his eldest.

Margot took her plastic-framed glasses off and set them on the patio table. She grabbed the shampoo bottle before she ran back to the slip-n-slide. In her eagerness to get back to the fun, she ignored Steve entirely. She ran past Lisa's slow progress and the baby yelled at her in frustration. Georgie shouted out something at Margot as she came charging back, and it was good to hear the boy's voice.

Steve's wet shirt kept him cool despite the warm day. His shorts were dripping down his legs. The smell of meat going onto the grill drew him like a magnet. Tommy handed him a beer in a dark glass bottle from the cooler at his feet.

"This is really nice," Steve commented.

"If you like it and you never get to do it, then maybe you should change a few things," Tommy suggested while he arranged the meat, then closed the lid on the grill.

"I don't know that I can. I've got friends. Co-workers. We could grill. We go out sometimes, but it's not as cheerful," Steve said.

Smoke escaped from the vent holes in the top of the grill. Tommy looked at the temperature gage and adjusted the vent with a few taps of his tongs

"That's kids. They're not worried about the stuff we worry about," he said.

"Some of them worry," Steve said absently.

Tommy looked at him curiously while he swigged his beer.

"Sorry. I shouldn't talk about work. It's just that some kids, in some places do have to worry. Your kids are lucky. Blessed. You and Emily do a good job," Steve commented.

"We try. Hey, you talk about work if you need to, man. Just not in front of the kids, alright?" Tommy told him.

"I shouldn't talk about it. That's not what I'm here for. Why do they need the shampoo? Oh. That's _really_ slippery," Steve said.

He looked back at the kids on the plastic. Margot had squeezed out most of the contents of the shampoo bottle onto the plastic, and now she and Georgie wallowed around in a slippery, bubbly mess of shampoo suds and puddles.

"We do this a few times a year. They're too young to have a pool. Margot is a handful and Georgie is right behind her. Lisa gets around, and she climbs like a monkey. Em would have nightmares if we had a pool. A slippy-slide on the plastic is good enough for now," Tommy explained.

"Makes perfect sense," Steve nodded.

Emily pushed the back door with her hip and Steve was quick to hold it open for her. She had a dish of potato salad and one of baked beans. Part of the patio table was in the shade and she set the things down near the punch bowl.

Steve saw her eyes quickly peruse his body, but she didn't let herself linger. He wondered if her apprising glance was even done consciously. He tugged his loose wet shirt away from where it was stuck to his abs and turned back to talk with Tommy. Emily came to hug her husband's side under his arm. Tommy made room for her with a natural looking adjustment. The couple looked content together. Emily's eyes sought to watch her children while she absently patted at Tommy's lean belly.

Lisa had finally reached the slip-n-slide. Steve watched while the tot stood and blinked under the water that sprinkled onto her face. She gasped a few times, not knowing how to breathe with trickles getting in her nose and mouth. Georgie reached out and yanked on his little sister. She fell onto her diapered bottom with a plop, and Margot spun her around on the plastic so that the water fell onto the back of her head and not her face. The baby's dirty-blonde curls darkened to brown as her hair plastered to her head under the sprinkler.

"They work together like a team," Steve observed.

Emily laughed.

"Only when they're not fighting over a toy. If I bring the tub toys out here, you'll see them yelling and fighting," Em said.

"I'm an only, and my best friend had sisters way younger than him, so I didn't do much of that kind of fighting," Steve commented.

"Yeah, the whiskey on the gums girl. You should have seen how excited Margot was to get a letter from you. We didn't know that she was trying to write to you until all those letters came back to us. Then, we never expected you to write back. Huge frogs, man? Where did you see those?" Tommy asked.

"In the Congo," Steve said, "I enjoy the letters, too. It seems that nobody writes anymore. I get some stuff from fans, but its short notes, and maybe a weird thing in the mail or some embarrassing pictures. People used to write all the time. Mail was a big deal when we were overseas. Not an email like nowadays. Paper is tangible. You can keep it in your coat pocket and take it out when you're feeling down. It helps you to remember that there's a reality other than the one you're in."

Emily and Tommy were looking at him.

"Not that I carry your letters around in the uniform! It's not- I don't- ah, darnit. I just meant that getting a real letter feels nice," Steve was quick to say.

"It's alright, Steve. I know what you mean," Emily said kindly.

She touched a hand to his arm briefly, then she rushed off when they heard Georgie start crying. Lisa had stood up, then flopped down on him and she wouldn't get up. With the slippery surface, Georgie couldn't seem to get out from under his baby sis. Margot was off doing her own thing, spinning in circles on her bottom.

"You can quit that," Tommy said.

Steve looked to him, and he could feel his face slightly heated, again from the embarrassment of having probably said too much. What was with him today? He couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"You don't have to second-guess everything you say. There's no expectations here. As long as you're decent in front of the family, you can say whatever," Tommy assured him.

Steve looked down to his beer in his hand.

"Thanks. I guess I don't know how to talk to real people anymore. I used to not be so bad at it," Steve said, low and still embarrassed.

Tommy reached out and poked at his shoulder with one hand. Steve looked at him.

"You're just as real as me," Tommy said.

"Maybe," Steve commented.

The meat was almost done on the grill. The smell was making his mouth water hard. Emily herded a grumpy gaggle of kids toward the patio table. They were all waterlogged, with muddy feet and grass stuck to them. The kids settled into patio chairs and were served paper plates of prepared food, according to their skill level with a fork and knife. Tommy and Steve ate standing up, with their plates on the half-wall behind the grill.

Steve was always hungry, but he tried to moderate his speed while he ate. Tommy had a steak, two links of sausage, and a modest serving of potato salad and beans. Emily fixed Steve a similar plate, but Steve was left feeling half-fed. It wasn't anyone's fault that they didn't know about his metabolism. He didn't want to feel like a greedy mooch, so he ignored his belly. Georgie refused to eat more than one bite of his baked beans and he pushed his plate away to go play. Steve didn't allow himself to look at the neglected food for long.

"Did you have enough? You're a big guy. Are you sure you don't want more?" Emily offered to him.

She stood at the serving bowls, ready to put more on his plate. Steve smiled politely.

"I'm fine, thank you. That was great. Best potato salad I've had in a while. What do you put on your steaks, Tommy?" Steve asked.

The couple was distracted, and Tommy happily told him about the mesquite wood chips he used in his grilling.

Margot came running, and she stood patiently beside Steve while her father finished talking about cooking. Steve looked to her. It was odd to see the active child mostly standing still.

"Would you come and spin us?" she asked him.

"Wait a minute 'til I get the food put away, and we'll all go spin you," Emily told the girl.

Margot frowned impatiently, but she made herself wait.

"You'll be good at spinning," she said.

"How do we spin?" Steve asked.

"You don't get spinned. You're too big. You can spin us. Come on. I'll show you," Margot explained.

"Your mom said to wait. You just ate, so we need a few minutes before spinning or you know Lisa will spit up. Go teach your brother and sister how to make squirty-hands ," Tommy told her.

Margot wasn't thrilled, but she went back to the slippy slide. It was easy to see what she meant by spinning when Georgie sat up. Margot grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him around. The boy spun around in a puddle of soap suds until he came to a stop. Then Margot sat and found a puddle on the plastic deep enough to make squirts with her hands.

"I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but are you okay with the kids? You're strong. Can you touch them without bruising them?" Tommy asked him quietly.

"I don't know. I think so. You want me to spin them, like Margot did to Georgie?" Steve asked.

It made him nervous to think of being rough enough to be playful with the children. So far, the kids had always initiated contact and he'd been physically passive.

"I don't want to touch their shoulders. That's a bony part of the body. I'm more likely to bruise them there," he said.

"We'll make do. I hope you don't mind getting wet. Like, really wet. You only think you're wet right now," Tommy said.

Steve found that if he kept his hands kind of cupped and his fingers together, he could 'spin' the kids. The adults sat in a triangle on the plastic with their legs folded. With three adults and three kids, it was like passing hot potatoes. There was about twelve feet between Emily and Steve, and the same distance between Steve and Tommy. Em would grip a seated child by their knees or their bottom and shove them off toward Steve, with a twist that had them spinning and laughing as they slid along the slippery surface.

Baby Lisa laughed with delightful belly chuckles as she spun and hurtled toward Steve on her fat little bottom. The first time he caught her, Steve was battling a sort of internal terror. He was overly cautious in his catch and re-launch of the baby towards her father. Lisa made it slightly more than halfway to her dad across the plastic before coming to a stop, but Steve had to turn to catch an incoming Georgie.

The boy didn't laugh, but his eyes were crinkled and his teeth were showing in a big grin. His hands were braced on his knees in a sturdy posture, so Steve felt better about stopping him without hurting him. Georgie made an excited sound as Steve tried to do a better job of making the next leg of his trip more fun.

Margot came at him in a tight ball, hugging her knees to her chest. Her weight was teetered mostly on her bottom, but the kid had good balance. Steve caught her and with hardly a pause re-launched her toward her dad. She laughed and spun harder than her more spread-out siblings.

It took a while for the kids to get tired of spinning. The sprinkler water was chilly-cool on everyone's skin and it made a refreshing contrast to the heat of the noonday sun. Steve didn't wonder why the kids weren't getting a sunburn because they already smelled like sunscreen. If his skin was trying to burn, he couldn't feel it under the coolness of the splashing water.

Before they were done, Steve had found just the right touch of gentleness and strength to keep each of the kids slipping and spinning along almost non-stop. Long before Margot tired out, Lisa crawled off to the side and started rubbing her eyes.

After a rinse to get the soap off, the kids went down for a nap. Emily passed out towels, and Steve followed everybody into the house. Tommy turned on a ballgame on the television and they watched it with fresh beers in their hands.

Emily returned from putting the kids down. She passed bowls of ice cream to the men and kept one for herself. She wiggled into the big recliner chair so that Tommy had to scoot over to make some room for her. They were both slim people, so they could fit in the chair together if they snuggled close and shared the leg space.

Steve was thankful for the additional calories of the ice cream. Football wasn't his game so much, so he wasn't quite as interested in every play as Tommy was. The afternoon sunlight angled in through the west-facing windows. Not long after the ice cream was finished Emily fell asleep against her husband's side.

"You like my wife or something?" Tommy asked suspiciously.

"No!," Steve startled, caught staring at the couple, "I mean, I do like her, but not like that. The both of you are relaxed. Happy. It's nice to see. You're lucky, Tommy. Your life is like a dream. Your kids are happy, and you've got each other. That's worth something."

"Yeah? It sounds like you need a girl of your own. C'mon. You've got fame and you're not too ugly. How hard could it be?" the man asked.

"It's not easy. There's plenty of girls, but I don't have time. Not for something like you have. I know you work, too, so it's not like time is the only issue. I've got to think about security clearance. And I'm bad with women. Really bad," he said.

Tommy made a skeptical face at him.

"I'm not joking. It's painful. My pals nag me about it. As long as I don't try to talk to a lady, they seem to like me fine. Even when I mess up and make a hash of things, most of em go along with it, but I know why," Steve made a gesture down at his body, "I won't end up with something like you have with those kinds of girls. I'd have to go through a lot of mismatches before I find somebody, and that means security clearance and… things I can't talk about."

Tommy shook his head in sympathy.

"So you're not even gonna try?" he wondered.

Steve could hear the disappointment in his tone. Apparently other guys had a notion of what it must be like to be The Captain. They all seemed to think that he had women whenever he wanted them. He could have that, but it wasn't him. Without Buck, he'd never really had a date. Even with Buck, things hadn't gone so well for him.

Steve laughed a little.

"I seem to be a fighter, not a lover," he said with some wistfulness.

His eyes drifted to how Emily dozed so peacefully against Tommy's side.

"She's wiped out. Lisa's teething is better now, but Georgie wakes up in the night a lot. He's starting pre-school in the fall, and she goes to his room when he wakes up and helps him practice his sounds. She's got him up to twelve words now, but only she can get him to use them," Tommy said fondly.

Steve looked to his empty beer bottle in his lap and his fingers fiddled with peeling the paper label. Emily was a great mother. A sweet lady, and probably a loving wife to Tommy, with the way the man looked at her. She reminded him of his own mother, or what his mother might have been like if his dad hadn't died and things hadn't been so hard on her. Steve couldn't imagine having a lady like that in his life and he didn't think about it much. He was too busy most of the time. This little house was permeated with peace and love in a way that almost knocked the wind from his lungs. He hadn't even realized that peace or love was a thing he was capable of missing, but he felt it right now.

"Dude," Tommy said to him.

Steve looked over and avoided staring at Emily this time.

"You're the boss of your life. Whatever you want, you should make it happen," Tommy told him.

Steve shrugged.

"Dude! With everything you do for people, nobody would expect you to not have something for yourself. There's online dating, you know. I don't think a lot of people know your name. Post a pic of you wearing a hat and sunglasses, and don't mention your job. Then you can message with them online some before you meet. You can look at their profile and-"

"My friend Natasha already has me signed up for one of those. She's constantly trying to set me up with women. It doesn't feel right," he said stubbornly.

"Yeah, I see," Tommy said.

"What do you see?" Steve asked.

"It's not the girls. It's you. _You_ think you're too busy. _You're_ the one putting all the problems in the way," Tommy accused in the same sort of tone that Sam or Clint would use to tease him.

"It doesn't take you long to figure me out," Steve admitted.

"Are you scared?" Tommy asked him the question no one else had.

Steve looked to his beer bottle and flicked at the label.

"Maybe. It's not just me being bad with women. You don't know the things I have to be scared of. It's not normal stuff," Steve said after a while.

"Yeah. That's beyond me," Tommy agreed.

Steve liked the way that Tommy let the conversation go. He didn't keep hammering at it like Buck would. He didn't tease or place bets like his co-workers would. He didn't plot things behind his back like Nat did. He just let it go. They watched the last quarter of the game in easy silence, other than the low volume the TV was set on.

A small shape snuck into the living room with them. Margot was about to climb into the chair to snuggle with her parents. She had on a too-big faded Captain America shirt and pajama bottoms. Her hair was a fuzzy, light brown mess.

"Not now, 'Go. Mom is sleeping. You'll wake her up, and she's been tired lately," Tommy said quietly to his daughter.

Margot logically turned to the other chair. Steve would have protested the impropriety, but the child climbed over the stuffed arm of his chair and settled down on his leg and into his side. She tucked a fist under her chin and seemed to fall back asleep for the rest of her afternoon nap. The kid reeked of baby shampoo, but he probably did too and had gotten used to the smell. Tommy smiled slightly and found a hockey game to watch for a while.

The kid was a warm weight against him. She was normally so energetic, smacking him in the face with her doll or making brassy statements. At naptime she was peaceful. Steve didn't know what to do with the human contact, but he didn't have much choice. She was a dead weight on him. He knew he wasn't supposed to get too handsy with other people's kids. That was a risky thing nowadays, and he'd been through training from the PR department about avoiding awkward situations.

This didn't feel like that. The kid was sleepy and she wanted a warm spot and some comfort. Steve let her stay and he watched the game. It wasn't so bad. He sat there and tried to re-work his mind into accepting someone touching him other than in training or combat. Margot wasn't a threat. She was neither a man wrestling for dominance, nor a woman challenging him to find the right behavior. She was just a kid. Just a person.

When it was getting on toward evening, Steve had to get out of his casual clothes and back into his suit. He didn't want the Givens to feel obligated to feed him supper. Margot didn't want him to get up, but Emily managed to convince her to give him some space by offering to brush her hair. A sleepy looking Georgie brought him a crayon drawing of a big red frog wearing a hat. His drawing was surprisingly good, for a little guy. Lisa gave Steve a pat on the cheek as he stood by the door ready to leave.

"Thanks for having me, guys. It means a lot," Steve told them simply.

He was afraid that if he said more, he'd make an idiot of himself again.

Emily gave him a brief hug. Tommy shook his hand, then patted his back.

"You think about the things I told you. I hear that you're supposed to be smart. You can figure things out if you want to," he said.

"I'll think about it," Steve promised.

He walked out to his borrowed car. Margot waved goodbye to him as he pulled away from the curb. Steve waved back at the family. On his drive to the airport for pickup he felt like he was waking up from a dream. There were a lot of things, a lot of worries waiting to pile onto him like a ton of tigers. He didn't want to wake up yet. It had been a nice dream.

"You smell like- Something you shouldn't smell like. What did you _do_?" Clint asked as Steve sat in the co-pilot's seat of the quinjet for the rest of the ride home to New York.

"Nothing you'd understand. Let's get home. We've got to figure out a way to get into these Hydra bases before they burn all their data. Planning session at 0600 tomorrow. I promised Natasha I'd practice some new bo kata with her tonight," Steve said.

"Alright, so we're not talking about it," Clint said.

He got them off the ground and headed home. Steve allowed himself one last pleasant moment. He had wet play clothes in his briefcase, and a drawing of a frog in a protective plastic bag. He could put Georgie's drawing in his portfolio, along with his. It's not like anyone would want to get into his personal things. That stuff was meaningless to anyone but him.


End file.
